


The Drooping Dendrophilos

by mimamu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Fantasizing, Greenhouse, Herbology, Hogwarts, Horniness, Masturbation, Ministry of Magic, Other, POV Third Person Limited, Plants, Porn With Plot, Professor Neville Longbottom, Public Masturbation, Ron Weasley Bashing, Semi-Public Sex, Severus Snape Lives, Sexual Humor, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Unhappy Marrriage, Voyeurism, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimamu/pseuds/mimamu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hermione craved for a man's touch. The last time had been a few months ago. Two months and seventeen days."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

> _Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _Thank you for your letter. Sorry to hear about your disagreement with Ron. Not to worry, though. You two will surely make up soon enough. Haven't you always?_

Indeed they had, thought Hermione acidly. But not this time. Ron's rekindled interest in his teenage sweetheart had been the final straw. Hermione had informed Lavender that Ron was now hers to keep. Lavender, however, had turned out smarter than she looked and had decided against sharing her bed with him for another night. Hermione did not have the faintest idea of the current whereabouts of her good-for-nothing husband and, honestly, couldn't care less.

She continued reading, feeling slightly guilty for delving into a personal letter at work. Neville changed the subject into plants, as usual. He was, after all, a professor of Herbology.

> _Do you remember my mixed fruit trees? They're currently blossoming (breathtakingly beautiful!) and it's time to secure their pollination. I'm sure you're aware that insects carry pollen from flower to flower, but did you know that birds, bats and some magical creatures can also act as pollinators? Unfortunately I have no humming birds available and therefore the students and I have pollinated some of the flowers manually. We're eagerly expecting a crop in the autumn._

Hmm... The birds and the bees. Hermione craved for a man's touch. The last time had been a few months ago. Two months and seventeen days.

When an embarrassed blond man had begged her pardon for stepping on her toes at Flourish and Blotts, she had hardly recognised her old classmate, Neville Longbottom. Neville had never been traditionally handsome and truth to tell, still wasn't. Yet somehow he had become more clearly defined, broader and slimmer in all the right places.

Ron's hairline was receding already in his thirties, making him resemble more and more his nearly bald father. And how on earth did he manage to be thin everywhere else except around his midriff? Neville on the other hand... he was truly a late bloomer. They were no longer young and it was time to reap what they had sown. Neville's boyish looks bore unmistakable signs of quiet life, a healthy diet and regular evening walks. Somehow his innocent smile had managed to smooth Hermione's tired expression as well.

While Hermione's thoughts lingered on Neville, a pleasant warmth started tingling in her belly. She had suggested meeting more often. Alas, her new pen pal seemed completely oblivious to her more or less subtle hints.

> _I have a brand new plant, a bearpaw, which I received from Hagrid as a present. You know my love for the plant kingdom is boundless, but bearpaws are a rather unapproachable (and I mean literally!) species. I'd prefer not to end up in its claws!_
> 
> _The drooping dendrophilos, however, continues looking miserable. I suspected it didn't appreciate direct sunlight and therefore moved it to a more secluded spot. No effect whatsoever. Previously I tried mixing the soil with both peat and gravel, which didn't help either. Getting rather desperate now. The drooping dendrophilos berries are very valuable, but it doesn't look like this unhappy specimen will produce any._

And so on and so on... Suddenly alert, she looked up as a good-looking behind walked into view unexpectedly. It belonged to a lanky man, who didn't work for her department as she surely would have noticed in case anyone on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had such a delicious pair of buttocks. His flaming orange hair made her feel so hot that she felt like squirming on her seat. She had always had this thing for redheads. Well, any hair colour would do, really. She wasn't picky. She watched his long, delicate fingers slowly drumming her colleague's desk and to her disappointment, spotted a wedding ring. Suddenly, the owner of the behind turned and she found herself eye to eye with a lean, freckled face with a long nose and horn-rimmed glasses.

Percy Weasley.

Hermione nodded a hasty greeting and returned to her letter. She wasn't that desperate, was she?

> _You asked whether I'm seeing someone. To be honest, I've recently seen my plants only. It's not like any nice girl will come and find me at the greenhouse!_

A new visitor had joined Percy. How is one supposed to get anything done in the middle of these distractions, Hermione thought with a frown. With a start, she recognised the newcomer's low and reassuring voice: it was none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic! She quickly hid Neville's letter and with her best efforts of appearing busy, immersed herself in the first work related parchment she could find. Her eyes wandered from one word to another, but while Shacklebolt's dark voice kept licking her ears, she failed to form any coherent sentence. At least the Minister for Magic was, for some incomprehensible reason, still single. Unfortunately he was also her highest superior.

"Yes, minister", Percy said.

Yes, minister, she repeated to herself. Oh yes, minister! The warm, tingly sensation inside her was getting unbearable. Crossing her legs neatly, she leaned forward. Hmm, that felt nice. Then slightly backwards. Forwards again. She imagined Shacklebolt pronouncing her name with that soft and low voice of his...

"Hermione?"

Perhaps it wasn't just her vivid imagination. Both Shacklebolt and Percy were now staring at her, looking slightly concerned.  
"Everything alright?"  
"Of course", Hermione replied, blushing and out of breath. "I was... I was just reading..." But she wasn't able to recall what she had been doing before Neville's letter had arrived.  
"You seem feverish. Perhaps you should go home and rest."

Normally, Hermione wouldn't have heeded such advice. She actually enjoyed working, something which Ron had always failed to understand. But she really was feeling rather hot and had had trouble focusing for several days already. There was just one cure for her illness: Professor Longbottom.


	2. Chapter 2

How bizarre to be back at Hogwarts, Hermione thought, walking along a deserted corridor. Her old school was so full of happy memories. Exciting memories. Sad memories. Had everything worth remembering really happened over ten years ago? Her life after the war had perhaps been carefree, but also significantly more boring. The final class of the day was nearing its end and Hermione could hardly wait to surprise Neville afterwards. She smiled when she noticed two first year girls sitting in an embrasure, whispering little secrets to each other. But wait... one of them was wearing a prefect's badge, which meant they had to be at least fifth years!

As Hermione passed the two girls, she could hear footsteps behind her. She could tell they belonged to a male. Not a student, but an adult male, striding forward with determination. Her own gait immediately adopted a more swaying rhythm. For she was no longer a school girl, but a full-grown woman. Whoever the man was, he would get a chance to enjoy the sight of high heels combined with a pencil skirt, instead of school robes. The footsteps were closing now. He was just behind her...

"Miss Granger."

She had been addressed by a thin and dark figure. His posture was even worse than before and she could spot some greying wisps amongst his thinning, black hair. Although time had not treated him kindly, his sunken eyes were gleaming just as malevolently as ever.  
"Professor... Snape", she spluttered. All of a sudden, she felt like a student with a guilty conscience.  
"Why are you not attending your class?" Snape asked, giving her a long, sly look. "Five points from Gryffindor for skipping class and detention... in this empty classroom right now."  
She envisioned her old teacher grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the nearby classroom. Without a word, he pinned her against the wall and proceeded to make rough love to her, whereas in reality he had already taken his leave. She was shocked to feel wetness in her knickers. If she didn't soon find Neville, she would no longer be accountable for her actions.

Hermione stepped out to the castle grounds and noticed Hagrid approaching in the distance. Oh no, not him, please... She hurried to the greenhouse. As she stepped in, warm, moist air and an earthy odour flushed on her face. To her surprise, no students nor their teacher were around. She glanced down and screamed: there were reddish footprints everywhere. She was standing in a pool of blood.

"Why, it's Hermione Weasley, isn't it", said an aged woman, who had suddenly emerged between the plants. It was Madam Pomfrey, carrying Neville's bag on her shoulder.  
"What happened here?" Hermione asked, her voice wavering.  
"Professor Longbottom had an accident with one of the plants. He's currently in the hospital wing, being patched up. But don't worry", Madam Pomfrey said nodding towards the ground, "that belongs to his opponent."  
Hermione followed the footprints with her gaze and saw a nasty looking, spiky bush. Red sap continued dripping from its injured branches.  
"May I visit him?"  
"You may, but no earlier than tomorrow. Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but..."  
Hermione nodded with a smile. "Take good care of him."

Madam Pomfrey closed the greenhouse door behing her and Hermione sighed. This meant another lonely evening with dry white wine, an erotic novel, and Gilderoy. Or her own hand, to be precise, as last week Gilderoy had broken down at an inconvenient moment. It felt stupid leaving just like that. She could at least leave a note, letting Neville know she had been here.

Hermione found Neville's desk at the very back of the greenhouse. It was a similar trestle table as all the other tables, but covered with small notes, written with a familiar hand.

> _Remember the mandrakes!!!_  
>  _Remember to buy quills_  
>  _Remember Professor Snape's present!_  
>  _Remember the password: Ginger newt_  
>  _Remember to write to Hermione_

Remember to write to Hermione! Smiling broadly, she picked the note up and was about to slip it in her handbag. But then again, Neville might actually forget to write if she souvenired it. It was best to leave this particular note as visible as possible.

Behind the desk, a large bush or perhaps a small tree was looking miserable. It was the only plant in the whole greenhouse that didn't seem to appreciate Professor Longbottom's kind efforts. From between the sadly hanging leaves grew long and wrinkly appendages, which were creeping on the ground like dried up snakes. The pitiful appearance immediately stirred her sympathy.

Granny had advised her to talk to plants.  
"The drooping dendrophilos, I presume", she said courteously.  
The plant neither confirmed nor denied this.  
"Are you feeling unhappy too?" she asked, feeling like a complete imbecile. What had she expected? Granny had indeed become a bit soft in the head lately.

Hermione decided to abandon the one-sided conversation. Instead, she snatched an empty parchment and leaned on the desk, looking for a quill. Had Neville forgot to buy them? A faint scent of aftershave made her thoughts wander once more. If only Neville were here. She could almost see his pleasantly surprised expression upon recognising his visitor. She would kiss his soft, smiling lips and finally he would understand what this was about.

"You know, I've always fancied you", he would shyly confess.  
"Oh, come on", she would reply, thoroughly pleased.  
"It's true. I even asked you to go to the Yule Ball with me. When we met on Diagon Alley... I thought you wanted to be just friends."  
"I want much more..."

Closing her eyes, Hermione leaned lower. The seducing musk of Neville's aftershave smelled even stronger and mixed with the fragrance of some wonderful flower. She imagined his impatient hands lifting her skirt and lowering her soaking wet knickers. He would admire the delicious sight, open his trousers and finally guide his erection... She gave a shriek and jumped up.

Someone had just touched her behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione calmed herself down. There was no one behind her. What had startled her was just one of the plants brushing her with its... tentacle.

Hermione frowned as she looked at the flower-pot that had a moment ago accommodated the neglected looking drooping dendrophilos. Something strange was going on. The leaves of the plant were no longer hanging down and the previously lifeless appendages stood swollen and upright, sporting a fresh hue of light green. Moreover, the smell that she had mistaken for Neville's aftershave was emanating from the drooping dendrophilos. How curious a plant!

"Looks like you just wanted someone to talk to", Hermione said, smiling a sad smile. "I know the feeling."

The appendage that had touched her was now pressing directly against her crotch. It reminded her of her neighbour's mongrel, which had an extremely annoying habit of drooling all over everyone's private parts. Feeling uneasy, she stepped aside, but to her amazement, the tentacle followed. She returned to her old spot and so did the tentacle.

Poor Neville had just ended up as a living proof of dangers of the plant kingdom. The bearpaw was, by no means, an exception – Hermione had not forgotten the whomping willow, the devil's snare, the venomous tentacula, the snargaluff... Knowing full well that even an innocent looking flower could savage, strangle or poison an unsuspecting passer-by, yet unable to resist, she stroke the appendage with her index finger. The sensation was not unpleasant. The tip bulged slightly and was covered with tiny lumps. The lumps were excreting transparent sap, which made the surface slippery. She grabbed the warm, elastic shaft with her whole hand. It felt satisfyingly sturdy and as she let the tentacle slowly slide inside her fist, the familiar tingling sensation was back, stronger than ever. If she ever got her hands on Neville's penis, she would do like this... and again... and then... She instinctively let go.

Was it her imagination playing tricks on her or had the appendage just vibrated? Quite like Gilderoy, really. And was the tentacle slightly greener and more bulging as well? Almost like it enjoyed being touched. She grabbed the tentacle again and continued caressing it. This time there was no mistaking it: the tentacle soon responded to her attentions by vibrating again. She started working with both hands and was rewarded by a longer vibration. The tentacle felt warmer and slicker and the sight and the sounds of her hand moving up and down the shaft were mesmerising. Surely Neville would appreciate such treatment, she mused with a smirk. She grew breathless as Neville's eyes filled with desire. The next vibration was cut short by a series of pulses. This was a bad idea, she thought, but it was too late to let go. There was just enough time for her to squeeze her eyes shut, while the tentacle jerked and... that was it. The tentacle started slowly shrinking. As she let go, it flopped down like a tired but happy garden hose.

This was ridiculous! What if she got caught red-handed, groping a bush? She should go home, preferably without any further encounters with men, half-giants or even centaurs.

She stole a glance at the drooping dendrophilos. A new appendage had surreptitiously pressed itself against her mons pubis. The greenhouse was like a lush paradise and the fragrance of the plant reminded her of a freshly showered and shaven man, hair slightly wet and a few drops of water still gleaming on his skin. The tentacles were swaying lightly and the idea of a dozen or so penises ready for action made her light-headed.

Pushing all reason aside, she leaned against the desk again. The most eager of the tentacles sneaked under her skirt right away and the tip pushed teasingly against the wet fabric of her knickers. She lifted her skirt, grabbed her knickers and squirmed until they fell to her ankles. Another tentacle got interested in them instantly. The first tentacle was now pressing more decisively against her wetness. She freed one foot from her knickers and closed her eyes. She needed to just lean backwards slightly and...

Neville guided his erection inside her. She sighed and for a moment they both savoured the new sensation. When he started slowly moving, she willingly answered his thrusts. His cock vibrated, making her gasp with delight.  
"Hermione", he grunted and withdrew.  
Oh no, she thought, disappointed. That was quick. Even Ron could do better.

She turned around to see what had happened. One more tentacle had slumped to the ground, but luckily enough, a new one was already poking at her.  
"That was rather sudden", Neville apologised, while penetrating her again.  
"Hmm-mm", she replied rhythmically, while his cock vibrated once more. "Hmm-mm-mm-mm-mm..."

Suddenly, there were footsteps and the rustling of leaves. Somebody was coming! Neville pulled back in a hurry, while Hermione got up to straighten her clothes. How embarrassing if they got caught. This was a school and Neville was a teacher. If the Board found out, he would surely lose his job.

The branches swayed and out stepped Snape. What in the name of Merlin was he doing here, she wondered, horrified. Had he heard something? Snape's dark eyes were fixated on the red footprints that had followed her high heels.  
"Neville... Professor Longbottom had an occupational accident", she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was just about to write him a note." Shoo. There's nothing to see here. Nothing at all. You did not catch anyone pleasuring herself with a pot plant.  
Snape didn't bother to reply. His gaze followed the footprints and stopped at her shoes. At her ankle. At her knickers, wrapped around one of her ankles.

The colour on her face took a deep shade of red, while a new tentacle brushed her behind tentatively. The silence was so complete that a grain of sand crunched painfully loud under Snape's battered shoe. A drop of water fell from a broken tap, sounding like a tsunami in the bucket underneath.

And then – just as unsuspected as he had appeared – Snape turned around.  
"I'm not surprised", he muttered, probably to himself.  
Hermione held her breath until he was well out of sight. The door of the greenhouse was slammed angrily shut.

Neville laughed nervously. "Believe it or not, that crazy old man still freaks me out."  
"Of course he does. He's creepy. But why didn't he say anything?"  
"Oh well, he must be half blind by now. Shall we continue?"

And so the trestles creaked, the notes flew around and a pot plant on the desk swayed. Neville panted and Hermione moaned.  
"Neville", she cried out, as the pot plant came crashing down.

She laid motionless, while his lips caressed the back of her neck. For a moment, she was no one and nowhere. She was not disappointed, lonely or bitter. She simply was.

As she got up, a note fell from her hair and spiralled to the ground. She adjusted her skirt once more and inspected the drooping dendrophilos, which had a deeply satisfied look that nearly matched hers. Only one appendage, the one that had strayed to probe her knickers, was still erect. It felt selfish to deny complete satisfaction from a lover that had taken care of her needs. Kneeling down, she dangled her knickers in front of her face. The tentacle followed the bait.

What could be so strange about it, she asked herself. After all, she had put more peculiar things in her mouth before – Ron's penis, to begin with.

Wrapping her fingers around the tentacle, she gave the swollen tip a wet kiss. The flavour made her eyes widen with surprise. The sap tasted just like her favourite lollipop: cherry. She started licking the tip eagerly and finally took it carefully in her mouth. As the tentacle moved in and out, a musky smell surrounded them. The sweet sap mixed with saliva, smudging her lips and oozing down her chin. She murmured, while someone huffed. The heated tentacle pulsed rhythmically. There was a repressed groan and the tentacle twitched one more time before relaxing.

A groan?

Hermione jumped up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The leaves rustled. Someone opened the greenhouse door and slammed it shut.

***

> _Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _Please accept my sincere apologies for not writing any sooner. I was forced to take sick leave, after accidentally stumbling into the bearpaw. Madam Pomfrey finds the plant too dangerous for teaching purposes and I suppose she's right. Hagrid and I have replanted it in the Forbidden Forest._  
>  _Actually, I just wanted to share the good news concerning the drooping dendrophilos. To be honest, I had already given up all hope. But when I returned back to work, I discovered a small miracle: the plant is now thriving and has even produced berries, the taste of which resembles cherries._  
>  _How unfortunate that I don't really know what happened. I believe some suitable pollinating animal must have somehow sneaked into the greenhouse during my absence and pollinated the plant (not to mention messed my desk up completely). I'm now planning on getting a second specimen, so as to enable cross-pollination._  
>  _Take good care and say hello to Ron!_
> 
> _Your friend, Neville._


End file.
